


The Fog Gets to You

by LastAstronaut



Series: Courier Six in the 'Wealth [3]
Category: Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, fallout 4 ending spoilers, far harbor spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9822539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastAstronaut/pseuds/LastAstronaut
Summary: After the events in Far Harbor, Nick Valentine needs to take a walk. He meets with an old friend in the Mojave.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after An Atomic Cocktail, but isn’t a direct sequel. I just have a lot of angst after finishing Far Harbor and love my Courier with Valentine T^T. While Nick didn’t have uh, phallic equipment in his pants in An Atomic Cocktail, he does in this fic. Let’s just pretend at some point he got that upgrade. 
> 
> Ps: Credit for the title goes to this Far Harbor OST upload https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aj4mYvz5wQM

“Hey boss?”

Six’s eyes slowly raise from the terminal she was staring at to look at Raul. Her gaze is glassy and eyelids heavy from the Jet winding down her nerves and quieting a throbbing headache. 

Raul nods to the elevator behind him, “Weird robot downstairs lookin’ for you.” 

She snorts, “Lotsa weird robots around here, man. Can you be more specific?”

He shrugs, “He’s got a trenchcoat, hat. I’d say his yellow eyes are creepy, but, I know what I look like.”

Six blinks rapidly to clear the haziness from her thoughts and stands up, pulling her arms behind her in a stretch. “That’s Nick Valentine, Raul!” She pats Raul’s shoulder twice when passing by him to hit the elevator button, “Don’t call him a robot.” 

“Whatever you say, boss.” He says, following behind.

As they descend to the casino of the Lucky 38, she remembers the last time she saw Nick. He’d needed help on a long standing case that ended cold in the Mojave, and after a couple of drinks they spent the night in her hotel room. Heat rushes to her cheeks now, memories of his mouth and tongue exploring her sex at the forefront of her mind. The doors open and she runs her fingers through her hair, smoothing out where she can without the help of a mirror.

Nick is at the bar in the casino, talking to the Mister Handy bartender. She places a hand on his back, the fabric of his trenchcoat stiff under her touch. “Well look who came to visit!” She greets with a grin and takes a seat beside the synth. His yellow eyes are starkly bright in the shade from his fedora. “Good to see you, handsome.” She purrs.

The corner of his lip twitches, “Heya beautiful. I hope I’m not interrupting anything, showing up unannounced like this.” 

She frowns slightly. For all the ignorance people spread about synths being inhuman, Nick’s facial expressions are remarkably telling. She could always tell when he’s lost in thought or full of joy. Right now, Six hears his forlorn voice and her hand moves from his back to his shoulder. “You know you’re always welcome here, Nicky.” 

Nick forces a small smile and the Mister Handy behind the bar fills Six a glass of red wine. Nick reaches his drink out to her and they clink glasses, each taking a sip.

After a brief silence she nudges his leg with her foot, “What’s going on, Nick? You in trouble?”

He quickly shakes his head, “No, no. Not in trouble. I just needed to get out of the Commonwealth for a bit.” 

“Ah. Tough case?” 

He sighs, “I guess you could say that.” He’s quiet again, but his thoughts are interrupted when she places her hand on his. The warmth and softness radiate through his metal fingers.

“Hey,” she says softly, and he meets her eyes, “I’ve got a mini bar in my office upstairs if you wanna talk in private.”

Nick nods and his good hand reaches into the pockets of his trenchcoat, pulling out a few caps to leave on the bar. The Mister Handy beams a “why thank you, Sir!” as they pick up their drinks and head to the elevator. 

“Raul,” Six calls to the ghoul enjoying a cigar by the front doors. “Lock up for the night. Any visitors stop by, tell ‘em I’m out.”

“You got it, boss,” receiving her hint with a playful tone.

When the elevator doors close Six opens her mouth to ask Nick what’s got him down, but she’s met with the force of his body pressing up against hers. His skeletal hand still holds the glass of bourbon; his good hand holds where her neck meets her shoulder to pin her against the elevator wall. 

Her gasp is cut off by his mouth crashing onto hers. The wine glass almost slips when she goes to wrap her arms around his neck. She wants to melt into him, but this isn’t typical of Nick. Sure they’ve been rough in the bedroom, but his strange mood and sudden aggression makes her pump the brakes.

“Nick,” she’s out of breath when lightly pushing him off, “What are-”

She’s cut off by his groan and the feeling of his forehead pressing against hers, “I’m,” he evens his breath, “I’m sorry. I just need you.” He says lowly against her lips. 

Her hips instinctively press against his, “I’m not complaining, but,” she trails off when his mouth lands on her jawline and moves down her neck, “I’m a little worried about you.”

He lifts his head to respond but the elevator doors open. Boone is about to walk in but stops mid-stride when catching them. He’s the first to break the awkward silence, “I’ll let you get back to your suite.” He leans into the elevator just far enough to push the button for the floor above the one they’re on. 

Six, not attempting to move away from Nick, flashes a shit-eating grin, “Thanks, buddy.” 

Boone nods as the door of the elevator closes and continues its journey up. 

The couple’s eyes meet and they can’t stop themselves from laughing, reluctantly peeling away from each other to shift their clothes and beam bashfully. When they arrive at the correct level, Six leads the way to her office. There’s a desk with her private terminal, a weapons locker, a couch, and a liquor cabinet. 

“Bourbon still your poison?” She asks while Nick sits on the couch, his weight sinking into the surprising comfort.

“Can’t teach this ol’ bot new drinks,” he drawls, pulling a cigarette out with his teeth from a collapsing pack.

Six is smiling upon her return with a half empty bottle of bourbon. She twists the cap with her teeth and tops off his drink, “For you.”

He nods and takes a sip. After Six makes herself comfortable beside him on the couch, he exhales, “Listen, I’m sorry. I show up without a heads up, drink your liquor, then act like an unhinged animal the second we’re alone.”

She leers, “I’m usually into it, Nicky.”

He chuckles, albeit sounding sad, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Any other time I would’ve kicked the emergency button in that elevator and had you make me scream,” she draws out the last three words with an intentional gravel to her voice. It makes him hold his breath for a second longer before exhaling smoke, “but something’s up with you. You can talk to me.”

He knows. It’s why he traveled all the way from the Commonwealth to see her. They’ve been able to shoot straight with each other from the beginning, and she has a grip on his circuitry like no other woman - not even Jenny, whom he still dearly loved. Jenny was the old Nick’s girl, but Six was someone the old Nick couldn’t have, someone just for the synth detective.

They sit in a comfortable stillness. She’s patient, lighting a cigarette of her own while he collects his words. 

“An old friend reached out in a panic. His daughter went missing. Nora and I took the case and ended up at an island off the coast, a place called Far Harbor.” Nick’s gaze is on his shoes, “The island’s covered in this radioactive fog that… messes with people. I almost drove Nora crazy everytime I warned her about the Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy doin’ cartwheels.” He jokes, moving his sight to his skeletal hand, flexing the joints and watching the smoke of his cigarette flow into the gloomy lighting of her office.

She smiles to herself, working to ignore the dull pang of jealousy when hearing about Nora. Six knows it’s silly but the way Nick idolizes Nora despite her joining the Brotherhood of Steel ate away at her insecurities on bad days. But who couldn’t love the Vault Dweller, the Sole Survivor of yet another horror by Vault-Tec? 

The two women would have a lot of stories to share over drinks, after all; they’ve persevered against all odds. One woke up after 200 years of cryosleep to destroy the Institute and kill her own son in the process. The other woke up after taking a bullet to the head and then brought the Mojave Wasteland to its knees. Though Nick and Nora never shacked up - her ideal man being a tin can by the way of power armor, his ideal being better to synths - he clearly has a thing for ruthless femme fatales.

“We found the missing girl in a synth colony,” he continues, still staring at his joints, “It was run by my brother.”

Six’s eyes flicker from the rim of her wine glass to Nick’s profile, “Your… brother?”

“It was news to me, too. He told me he saved me from the Institute. I didn’t believe him at first but, I found a holotape proving it. Thing is….” he trails off and then sighs in frustration, “I have no  _ fucking _ memory of this, Kenza.” 

Nick almost never drops an f-bomb outside the bedroom, and Six can’t remember the last time he called her by her real name and not the infamous nickname. She puts out her cigarette and reaches over to him to play with the frayed end of a string hanging from his sleeve. “The Institute would’ve wiped your memory after escaping, right? Some sort of… failsafe? To protect themselves?” 

He looks  over at her, his glowing eyes dim and sudden frown bewildering his expression, “That’s the worst part, I have no way to know for sure. DiMA… my brother. He says there’s only so much storage in a synth’s memory. He had all these modifications attached to him to store over a century of memories. I guess I’d have to do the same if I don’t want to lose my damn mind, forget who I am, who my friends are,” he looks at her hand playing with his sleeve and holds it with his skin-covered one, “or forget you,” he adds quietly.

Her brow furrows and her heart sinks. He continues, fingers lacing with hers and bringing her closer, “I was a real jackass to him at first, but… he was so damn patient. He was kind. I grew soft on the old synth. While Nora slept or dealt with radiation sickness, he and I spent nights talking about… everything, really. Waxing philosophical, commiserating about the Institute,” his fingers twitch around hers, “Humans.”

Her nose crinkles, “How much we suck?” 

His smile is smug, “I don’t mind you sucking.”

“Nice one,” she grimaces jokingly.

A beat passes and he brings her hand up to his chin. She runs her thumb across his lips and settles her palm on the exposed circuitry on the side of his face. He leans into the touch, sighing quietly and closing his eyes. After a moment he takes her hand again and kisses it, bringing it back down to his lap. “We ended up finding evidence that DiMA did something terrible. He murdered a woman and replaced her with a synth to infiltrate Far Harbor. It was his way of bringing peace. When it all came out, the woman had him executed.”

She feels a lump well in her throat, “Oh jesus, Nick.”

“After all the talk about accepting him as family, we ended up getting him killed anyway. I’ve taken a lot of knocks. Winter, Jenny. I thought I was at a loss then, but... this. This hit too close to home,” he lets go of her hand and rubs his forehead, and her hand remains firm on his thigh, squeezing, “I needed to take a walk. I could barely form words around Ellie when I returned to Diamond City.”

“I’m so sorry,” her voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

She sets her wine glass down, moving her hand to grip his chin and gently face her, “You stay here as long as you want, okay?”

His expression is tired, “I can’t ask you-”

“You didn’t ask. You never have to, Nick. Anything you need, consider it done.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering all the strays you’ve taken in so far,” his eyes brighten. Six laughs, thinking of her companions crashing at several different locations within the Lucky 38. Nick’s lips curl upwards, watching the wrinkled corner of her eyes and dimples on her cheeks. “You’re an angel.”

She loves hating how easily he makes her blush and shakes her head, “Ah, come on now. I know many people out there who’d prove otherwise.”

“Well you’re good at heart, even if you’re occasionally a trouble maker.”

There’s a reassuring quiet between them, eyes twinkling at each other while the faint sound of Mr. New Vegas’ broadcast fills the room. She takes another sip of wine and clears her throat, “You remember the night I killed Benny?” It’s a rhetorical question, as his nod indicates. “My whole life after waking up from being shot in the head was finding that fucker and his goons and making them pay. Everything they took from me, I was going to take back. And then some.” She reaches over to the bottle of bourbon and refills his glass, “After you pulled me off from beating Benny’s lifeless body, I broke. I had been so focused on getting revenge that when I got it,” she shakes her head, “I had nothing else.”

Nick remembers crouching down at the spot Jenny was killed, the same empty feeling coursing through his wires. 

“But looking around, I know that’s not true. We’re not defined by the shit that happens to us, especially not the shit that hurts us. It doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real, but… it’s not what we are or what we become. I know what you’ll do after this, Nicky.” She points at the elevator doors, “You’ll go back to the agency and make the ‘Wealth safer each day. That’s what  _ you  _ do. That’s  _ your  _ legacy. And, fuck, if you do end up losing pieces of your memory, your friends will be there to help you remember. I’ll find every fucking upgrade necessary. I love you too damn much to just sit around and watch you fade away.”

Their eyes connect, both realizing the weight of her declaration. If he had a heart, he’s pretty sure the grip he feels inside his chest means it broke listening to her. Neither recall who leaned into the kiss first, but seconds later he’s pulling her into his lap and they’re desperately embracing, their lips a lifeline to the other.

Nick stands up from the couch in a sudden movement and her legs wrap around his hips. She stops kissing him to breathe, “Are you sure?”

He sighs against her lips, “Please.”

Six pecks a quick, chaste kiss, then nods her head towards a hallway, “My bedroom is down that hall, but if you change your mi-”

She’s cut off by his hurried movements towards the hallway and giggles at his impatience. When they reach the foot of her bed, he lays her down and peels his trenchcoat off as she’s unbuttoning her plaid top. He crawls towards her, kissing the skin under her belly button and moving upwards towards her neck and jawline. She’s breathing hard and gripping his arms.

_Slow_ , he thinks to himself. _ Burn this to memory.  _ The metal tips of his fingers run up the side of her ribcage to her chin, holding her gaze. “I love you,” he exhales a breath he doesn’t need to hold before pressing his lips against hers again. 

Six hums into his kiss, holding the back of his neck and pushing her hips upwards to feel his hardness against the zipper of her jeans. The electricity from his lips and tongue cause her to whimper, and they strip the remaining items of clothing in their way. 

Nick’s mouth trails back down to between her legs, her scent dominating every nerve in the old synth. She whines for him as his tongue traces her lips and teases her opening. “Nick,” she moans, “please, I need you.”

He tells himself _slow_ , but his tongue curls around her clit and flicks with abandon, determined to make a mess of her. She gasps, reaching down to hold his head closer to her cunt and grinding onto his lips. His hands slip under her ass, the skin-covered one gripping tightly while the metal one scratches at her skin, causing her to cry out. He knows she’s close to orgasm by the way her thighs shake and her chest blushes, and he groans against her sex. She breaks, letting out a long and shaky wail and panting with every aftershock. 

“God, Nick,” she exhales with a laugh as his mouth moves back up to hers, claiming it and grunting when she tastes herself. 

He slides his cock against her wetness and they both whimper, “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against her lips, “I’ve needed this forever, sweetheart.”

His glowing eyes bore into her and she lifts her hips up to meet his, “Then take it,” she teases.

With a swift motion he enters her to the hilt, both of them moaning at the overwhelming sensation. His pace is agonizingly slow at first, pulling out completely and inching back in. She lets out a sob of frustration, begging for more. Nick can’t help but chuckle, his metal hand tangling in her hair and tugging with a strength she likes. He growls as his hips snap harder and faster against hers, the room filling with the sounds of their soft pleas and squeaks from the bedframe. 

The coolant rushes through Nick and he almost overheats. The tension in the lower part of his body is on the cusp of release as his good hand wraps around her throat. The way her eyes roll back pushes him over the edge, his orgasm hitting hard and the rhythm of his hips faltering. 

He collapses next to her, panting against the back of her neck as she happily exhales. Their fingers interlace as his mouth presses against her shoulder. “I couldn’t forget this,” he mutters.

Six grins to herself and melts into his arms, pressing her back firmly against his chest. Since the last time she saw Nick Valentine, she gets her first night of uninterrupted sleep. 


End file.
